The Truth Is the Light (12 page)

Chapter 23

P
astor Landris was in the game room with the children while Johnnie Mae continued to host the Perdue family upstairs. He and his two children had spoken to everyone when they first arrived. He was surprised when Clarence Walker came up to him and gave him a manly hug. Pastor Landris remembered Clarence from his baptism almost two Sundays ago.

“Hi, man,” Pastor Landris said, slapping him on his back. “Good to see you. I certainly didn't expect to see you here,” he said.

“Now, talk about a small world,” Clarence said. “That's my mother right there”—he pointed—“Zenobia Walker. And that's Gramps, Ransom Perdue, my grandfather.”

“Mister Perdue,” Pastor Landris said, shaking his hand and speaking a little louder than he normally would.

Gramps stood up. “Hey, there. You don't have to yell. I hear just fine. I remember you from my grandson's baptism. That was a great speaking you did at that service. I said I'm gonna have to come visit your church whenever I can get somebody to bring me.”

“Well, you just let us know and we'll be glad to come and get you. We have Wednesday night Bible study at seven and two Sunday morning services. Of course, I don't want Clarence's father getting upset with me about stealing you away to our church,” Pastor Landris said. “As long as we don't get in trouble, we'll certainly be happy to have you.”

Gramps nodded. “All right, now. I'm gonna hold you to that. Maybe Miss Countess and I can come together one of these Sundays. I'd love to hear you preach, although you don't look to be the whooping kind of preacher. Of course, looks can be deceiving.”

“No, Gramps. He doesn't whoop. But he absolutely preaches the unadulterated Word of God,” Clarence said.

“I'ma have to check you out one of these days,” Gramps said to Pastor Landris. “And I certainly appreciate you and your lovely bride here”—he nodded at Johnnie Mae—“opening up your home like this for all of us.” He wiped at one eye. “She's been an absolute jewel. She had chocolate cake and everything. Oh, Sarah would have loved this. Sarah used to say, ‘I've always been partial to chocolate,'” he said, slightly imitating her. “Just like that. She loved her some chocolate, that's for sure. I still can't believe all of this is happening. Finding my child after all these years. Who would have ever thought it? Thank You, Jesus. It's somethin', ain't it? My daughter, Memory; her daughter, Lena; Theresa, and all of her family; my daughter, Zenobia, and most of her family. The Lord is good. And I'm a living witness that His mercy endures forever.” Gramps started to cry.

“ ‘Oh, that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears,'” Gramps said, quoting the first part of Jeremiah 9:1. “I seem to be worse than Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, these days. I can't seem to stop these tears from flowing here lately.”

Memory stood and put her arm around her father. She rubbed his shoulders with her hand as though she were trying to start a fire with flint and a stick. “It's okay, Dad. It's the quality that counts now. God fixed it where we found each other. We'll just need to spend as much time as we can now. That's what I learned when I finally found out about my mother.” Memory started wiping her eyes as well. Zenobia came over and hugged the both of them.

“When my mother said we were going to the house of a woman named Johnnie Mae, she didn't call her last name,” Clarence said. “Imagine my surprise when I learned Johnnie Mae was Johnnie Mae Landris, my new pastor's wife, no less. I'd like to second Gramps's emotion . . . about you and Mrs. Landris having this here for us like this. It was perfect. I admit feeling a little strange at first . . . meeting people you didn't know even existed and learning that you're kin. Then feeling like you've known each other forever. It's strange.”

Knowledge walked over and extended his hand to Pastor Landris. “Pastor Landris. I'm Knowledge Walker, Clarence's older brother.”

“Good to meet you, Knowledge. That's a different name, for sure.”

“Yeah. You'd have to ask my mother what she was thinking.” He chuckled. “The kids were relentless when I was growing up, although I love my name now.”

“Hey, I've always heard that the name doesn't make you, you make the name,” Johnnie Mae said. “Take it from someone who struggled with her own name. Imagine being a girl named Johnnie, albeit Johnnie Mae. People are shocked when they meet me.”

“Well, we're glad to have you all here,” Pastor Landris said to Knowledge.

Knowledge nodded. “Those are my children over there playing with their new cousins. My baby son, Dante, is asleep. Come here for a minute, Jasmine, Dominique, and Deon.” The children got up and came over. Knowledge introduced them to Pastor Landris. Pastor Landris in turn introduced Princess Rose and Isaiah to them.

“Unfortunately my wife couldn't be here,” Knowledge said as the children went back over to play with the others. “She's a lawyer, and she's working hard on a case that's coming up soon.”

Pastor Landris spoke to Memory, Lena, Bishop Jordan, Theresa, Maurice, and their children. No one would have been able to tell from the casual way Pastor Landris and Theresa spoke to each other that they'd once been engaged, and were almost married.

“Well, I didn't mean to interrupt this fellowship,” Pastor Landris said. “The children and I wanted to speak to everyone. I'm taking Princess Rose and Isaiah down to the game room for a little while.”

“We want to go play,” Jasmine said.

“Yeah,” Mauricia said. “Can we go, Mom?”

“I'm sure Pastor Landris doesn't want to babysit a bunch of children,” Lena said.

“No, actually it's fine with me,” Pastor Landris said.

“Yeah, 'cause y'all are super boring,” Deon said.

“Deon,” Knowledge said with a fatherly tone to his voice. “That's not very nice. Now apologize for saying that.”

“He doesn't have to apologize,” Gramps said. “The boy is right. All we've been doing is talking grown folk talk and you women been here crying like somebody turned on a faucet and left it dripping. If Pastor Landris is brave enough to think he can take on a bunch of youngbloods, then I say let the children go have a little fun. That way, we can talk a little more about some other super-boring stuff we ain't touched on yet.”

Everybody laughed.

“Gramps, you're a mess,” Theresa said. “Well, you children mind Pastor Landris. And if they give you any trouble, especially my two, you just send them right on back up here.”

“That goes for my three as well,” Knowledge said, giving his three “the eye.”

Pastor Landris took the children down to the game room, thankful he'd stopped and gotten Princess Rose and Isaiah something to eat before coming home. Although there was some food left, there wasn't much. He had his eye on that chocolate cake that was almost gone. Johnnie Mae smiled and blew him a kiss on the sly. He knew that besides her letting him know how much she loved him, that kiss was telling him she'd already put him up a slice.

The children were in the game room playing their preferences of various games. The phone rang. Pastor Landris looked at the caller ID to see who was calling so he could determine whether to answer it or just let it go to the answering machine.

“Pastor Landris,” Reverend Walker said after Pastor Landris said hello. “Marshall Walker here. I promise I won't hold you long. I'm sure you, like I, have had a long day today.”

“Reverend Walker,” Pastor Landris said, acknowledging him. “What can I do for you?”

The noise level in the room was quickly getting louder.

“Daddy Landris is on the phone,” Princess Rose said to the others. “We need to be quieter until he gets off.”

Pastor Landris smiled and winked at her. She smiled and winked back.

“It sounds like you have company,” Reverend Walker said. “If you like, you can call me later.”

“We're fine. I merely volunteered to sit with the children for a little while. They're fine.”

“Well, you're certainly a better man than me,” Reverend Walker said. “My three girls are more than enough for me. Sometimes my five older sons' children end up here on an occasional visit. But I don't keep them any longer than to say hello, how are you, I give them a big Grandpa hug, and say good-bye. When they're here, I let my wife do all the work. That's women's work anyway.”

Pastor Landris didn't bother wasting his time commenting on that statement.

“The reason for my call,” Reverend Walker said, “is I'd like to have you come speak at our church one afternoon. I was thinking it would be great if our congregations could fellowship together. I apologize for not having done something like this already.”

“Reverend Walker, you don't have to do this. You and I had a discussion about my preaching style, and I'm well aware of what you think about it. When Poppa Knight died, you made it abundantly clear you didn't feel I was the right person to preach his funeral because I didn't bring enough ‘fire' with my messages.”

“If you're bringing that up for me to take back what I said, then I can't do that. For Poppa Knight's funeral, he deserved for it to be preached the way he preached during his lifetime. He preached with fire, and I knew I could do his home-going justice,” Reverend Walker said. “I owed him that much.”

“I wasn't asking for you to take anything back. I was merely pointing out what you and I both know to be true.”

“Pastor Landris, I'd like to press a reset button between us. I know I've possibly come off a little blunt at times with my thoughts and opinions.”

“You mean like when you called a few months ago to tell me I shouldn't allow someone to dance in our Dance Ministry because of her past life. A past, by the way, she'd asked to be forgiven of. A past, I informed you, that we all have, including you, regardless of what that past may contain. A past some folks may even believe is known only between them and God.” Pastor Landris was thinking of the envelope he possessed that was given to him by Poppa Knight that Reverend Walker had no knowledge he had. “I told you then, Reverend Walker, and I say it now: none of us are perfect. None.”

“Well, Pastor Landris, there are some sins I do believe are worse than others. And I stand by that statement.”

“Reverend Walker, there are no big sins and little sins. A sin is a sin is a sin.”

“Okay, Pastor Landris. Just to keep us out of the weeds of a debate, let's just agree to disagree on some things. You believe what you believe, and I believe what I believe. There's nothing you can say that's going to convince me that I'm wrong about my feelings concerning some things that people want to act like never happened. Well, Pastor Landris, in my eyes, there are no spiritual statutes of limitations.”

“Reverend Walker, unless there is nothing in your past that you've ever done wrong, I don't think you should even go there.”

Reverend Walker chuckled. “Look at how the devil is in operation. I call you to do the right thing, and just look at where we are. Pastor Landris, I'd love it if you'd check your calendar and see if you're available any Sunday in the next few weeks. I'd like to do this soon. I'd like for us to be friends and brothers the way God wants us to be. I'm trying my best to do my part. I leave where this goes from here on you.”

“I'll check my calendar and get back with you,” Pastor Landris said. The children started getting loud again.

Pastor Landris smiled as he saw how the children were getting along so well. The sound of their laughter and joy was like music to his ears.
Except we come as little children
. He thought of the scripture where Jesus spoke of people coming to Him as little children, and smiled again.

Chapter 24

A
ngela went home. Brent followed her upstairs after she barely spoke to him and their two sons. He picked up both children and followed his wife to their bedroom. He found her sitting in the middle of the bed with the cigar box her great-granny had given to Johnnie Mae, who in turn had given to her.

“What's wrong?” Brent said, putting Brent the Second and Shaun on the floor. Shaun promptly found something on the floor he wanted to put in his mouth to see what it tasted like. Brent took it out of his hand, shook his head no, and stuck it in his pocket.

Angela was pulling pictures out of the box and looking at them.

“Angela . . . Angel, what's wrong?” Brent said again.

“I'm fine,” Angela said, glancing up for a second, then back to her mission.

“Why do you have that box out?”

“I'm looking for a picture I saw in here. I know I saw a cute picture of a man . . .”

“Should I be worried?” Brent joked.

She flashed him a look that told him she wasn't in the mood to play.

“Okay, from that look, maybe my joke should have been a serious question to you. Should I be worried about whatever has you going right now?”

“Here it is,” she said, holding up the picture. She shook her head as she covered her mouth with her hand. She slid off the bed and handed the photo to Brent. “Who does that man remind you of? When you look at him, who do you see?”

“Honestly, it looks like a younger male version of your grandmother, Arletha.”

“That,” she said, pointing her finger at the man, “is Ransom Perdue.”

“Are you sure? He's a nice-looking man. So I take it you must have finally met him.”

“Yes. I met the older version of that picture, which is strikingly canny to the older version of Arletha. But, Brent, how is that possible?”

“Maybe this isn't really Ransom. Maybe you're mistaken. Yes, he looks like a young male version of Arletha. In fact, the resemblance is almost scary. But maybe this photo is a picture of Arletha's father and not Ransom Perdue.” He turned the photo over. “There's no name on the back.”

“Brent, listen to what I'm saying. I met the older Ransom Perdue. For a man who is about to celebrate his one hundredth birthday, he looks closer to someone in his seventies, at the most, eighties, which means he looks close to Arletha's age now. And when I looked into that man's face, I literally dropped my briefcase.” She put her hands to her face and rubbed it.

“This makes no sense,” Angela said. “Great-granny was married to Samuel L. Williams, my great-grandfather. I'd never seen a picture of him, and honestly, when I first saw this picture in this box, I thought it was a photo of him with Great-granny.” She shook her head. “The man in
that
photo standing next to Great-granny is
not
Samuel Williams. That's a picture of Ransom Perdue.”

“What about the fact you discovered that Arletha was born a Black and not a Williams?” Brent asked. “That's why it was hard to find out the true identity of Arletha, besides the fact that she changed her name from Black to Brown and she was born using a midwife during a time when records weren't always filed as they should?”

“I thought it just meant Great-granny got pregnant by Samuel Williams and they married after Arletha was born. They did marry. Great-granny and my great-grandfather had three other children, a daughter named May, then a year and a half later, a daughter named Frances, and a year after that, a son named Leon, after Samuel's middle name, since he already had a Samuel Junior from a previous union. But what if the truth is different from that? What if Great-granny was pregnant by Ransom Perdue?”

“That makes no sense. When would that have happened?”

“It would have happened . . .” Angela went and got a pencil and a paper. She began jotting down numbers and months. “Arletha was born January 28, 1944. To figure out approximately when Arletha would have been conceived, we need to go back nine months prior to that date. Nine months before Arletha's birth date would be . . . ”—she began using her fingers to count back the number of months she needed—“April 28, 1943. She would have been conceived around that date, give or take a few weeks.”

“Okay,” Brent said. “So before you go sharing this theory of yours with anyone else, especially Arletha or Ransom Perdue, you need proof that he was even
with
your great-grandmother in April or May of 1943.”

“Oh, the thought of
thinking
about Great-granny . . .” Angela said. “You're right.”

“Mommy, I want some juice,” Brent the Second said.

“Deuce, deuce,” Shaun said, trying to say “juice.” He bumped his fingers together.

“Okay, sweetheart. I'll get you both some juice.” She put back in the box the other things she'd pulled out, closed up the box, and placed the photo on top of it. “Give Mommy one minute, and I'll go get you some juice.” She picked up the phone and called Arletha.

“Hello,” Arletha said.

“Hi, Grand. How are you?” Angela said. They had gotten a lot closer than when Angela first got Arletha to finally confess that she was really her grandmother. Arletha had consented to Angela calling her Grand instead of Grandmother a year after she admitted the truth.

“Hi, darling. I'm fine. Old Arthur has been acting up again,” she said, her nickname for her arthritis. “But I'm about to slap something on him and see if I can't straighten that joker out
real
quick. I done told him to quit messing with me.”

“Listen, Grand, I need to get back that journal from you. You know, the one I let you see when you were in the hospital. The one your mother, Great-granny, wrote.”

“My goodness,” Arletha said. “How long ago was that?”

“Please tell me you have it,” Angela said, praying silently as she spoke. “Please tell me you still have it.”

“I'm sure I still have it somewhere. It's just a matter of me remembering where I might have put it when I called myself putting it up in a safe place. That's the problem with getting old: you start forgetting stuff that you shouldn't be forgetting.”

Angela tried to calm herself. She took in deep breaths. “Will you please see if you can find it?”

“Sure. I'll go look for it as soon as I hang up this phone.”

“And will you let me know the moment you find it? I'd like to come and get it.”

“Okay,” Arletha said. “But what's this all about? Why the sudden urgency to get the journal? I mean, you haven't asked about it in almost three years. Now you're hot and heavy to get it.”

“I just need to . . . I want to read some things. That's all. Just please, let me know as soon as you find it,” Angela said.

“Mommy, I want some juice,” Brent the Second said, this time more forcefully.

Brent picked up Shaun and grabbed Brent the Second by his hand. “Come on. Daddy will get you some juice.”

“But I want Mommy to get it,” Brent the Second said, pulling back as his father tried to keep him moving forward. “Mommy said she was going to get it.”

“Mommy's busy right now,” Brent said. “Daddy's going to get it.” Brent stopped and made his oldest son look at him. “Don't you want Daddy to get it?”

“No,” Brent said. “I want Mommy to do it. Mommy said she was, and I want her to get it.”

“Well, I hear my great-grandson in the background,” Arletha said. “You go get his juice. I'll call you when I locate the journal.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate this.” She hoped Arletha heard the desire in her voice.

“And then you're going to tell me why this became so urgent,” Arletha said.

“I told you, I just want to read it. That's all.”

“Okay. But you do know that lying is a sin. And lying to your grandmother is a double sin.” Arletha chuckled. “Kiss the babies for me. Tell my handsome grandson-in-law that I said hello.” She hung up.